


Gunslinger

by SirKai



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Blood, Gore, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-06
Updated: 2011-09-06
Packaged: 2017-10-23 11:44:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/249932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SirKai/pseuds/SirKai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Engineer uses his newly developed gadget to help Spy "wake up."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gunslinger

You always did think you were so clever, didn't you Spy? It was all jus' a game. Ya never did care about winning or losing, or RED or BLU. You jus' wanted to embarrass us. Wanted to humiliate us. Make us nervous. Watch us eyein' our backs from the safety of that fancy cloak a yers'. I'll bet you got yerself more than one solid chuckle or two at our expense. At my expense.

But suddenly, things don't seem so inconsequential, do they? You've been livin' a lie Spy, and not just to us, but to yerself. We all have. Believing anything matters, even from yer pedestal. Pretendin' what we do has meaning or consequence. Pretendin' either side could actually be defeated. Pretendin' that the defeat has a _purpose_ , even if to only fuel yer laughs.

But I woke up. I woke up just as you're waking up right now. I felt the teeth of that saw grind against my skin, pierce my flesh, and draw my blood. It dug through my very own muscle and tissue. I made that saw rend my body, Spy. It cut through my bone, and boy did it cut deep. I was lookin’ at a piece of myself. I just stared at it, and it lied there. No matter how much I move what's left, the hand is still as stone, like an animal that’s rolled over and died.

I can't explain how liberating it feels. To die over and over again, day after day, and then finally be reminded what it means to really feel _alive_.

I never was much of a man with words. I'm a man of action. A man of logic and reasonin'. So instead of tryin' to say it, I guess I may as well just show ya what it's like it. That makes sense, don't it?

Ohh yeah, there ain't nothin' quite it like it, is there? The way you grit yer teeth, the way the blood flows from the wound and runs down yer chin from that pantin’ mouth. Hell, you've even got some mighty gaps in between yer harsh breaths. You never think about breathing, do you Spy? You never think about what it means to live. To dwell on every little tick that keeps us all truckin'. We never think about it. We just do.

Well, you're thinkin' about it now, ain't ya? Life seems so much more complicated when you're lookin' at the blood red innards of yerself, and there's not a damn thing you can do.

My apologies for foolin' you earlier. You know that ain't much my style, but I really wanted to give this its deserved reveal. Though I have to say it was mighty stupid of ya to assume I had just forgotten my wrench. Boy, you should know well enough that I never forget anything. Well, ‘cept maybe my manners, as you can see. Hahaha, you oughta seen yer face when I crushed that poor lil' knife of yers' with my brand new hand. I reckon I broke a few of those finely gloved fingers in the process, but you know how easy it is to get carried away with a new toy.

I never did take the time to really appreciate the human body as much, I'll admit. But yer doin' a fine job of fixin' that. It's really quite fascinating how tightly knit our bodies are, and how gorgeous it all is when it comes undone. Take the neatly stacked and coiled small intestine, now generously wrapped around my fingers several times over. All it takes is one tug er’ tear, and the whole system collapses. Course, it ain't all about shreddin' yer insides. Maybe I oughta just reach up a bit farther, and tickle yer lungs a bit. Or hell, while I'm in the neighborhood, why not run my fingers across the bottom of that heart of yers'? Oh Spy, it sure is beatin' fast.

You still breathin'? Yer doin' swell pardner. I appreciate that.

Now, stay focused Spy. I might have had to snap a few ribs to give myself the room, but I get quite a kick from explorin' the length of yer spine. I could shove my fist up through your neck and into yer brain right now, and end everything.

But we don't want that now, do we? What if instead, I press a bit further back, and poke the inside of yer skin a bit? You feel that? You feel my metal fingers prodding at the inside of your back?

Cuz I sure as hell do.

I feel everything, Spy. I feel everything this hand touches. I feel it more than with my flesh. I feel the blood seeping into the metal and staining it. I feel the innards; the intestines, the nodes, the appendix, the colon. I feel each quivering shudder from yer entire feeble little body. I feel it all.

I feel my fingers puncture your back from the inside. I feel them being washed over with cool, outdoor air. I feel them curling, gripping the flesh of yer back, and tearing it as I thrust my balled hand forward through your back. I stretch and extend the fingers of my metallic hand, savorin' the remains as you stand impaled on my arm.

I didn't think you were still capable of gasping, Spy.

But before I go ahead and pinch yer spine between my fingers, and snap it like a rusted wire, I gotta know.

Do you see now, Spy? Are you awake yet?


End file.
